


The knight that wasn't

by JohnSpangler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butterflies, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnSpangler/pseuds/JohnSpangler
Summary: We all know how Davos Seaworth saved the people of Storm's End. But what if he hadn't been there? Read and find out.





	The knight that wasn't

AN: Each scene of this story shows an event of this AU, with hints about the rest. Anything that isn't shown or hinted at is up to the reader's imagination. I hope this doesn't discourage you and that you'll be so kind as to leave a review.

The knight that wasn't

What difference do you think you can make, one man in all this madness?

-First Sgt Edward Welsh (Sean Penn), from the movie "The thin red line" (1998)

DAVOS

King's Landing, many years ago

Somewhere in Flea Bottom

The cries of his enemies vanished in the distance, as the boy slowly collapsed on the ground, clenching his teeth and with a hand on his belly. His face was swollen, many of his bones were broken, his lips were bloody and the worn out clothes he was wearing were bloodstained. Not far from him, his knife lay forgotten on the ground.

The boy, whose name was Davos, had been quite seriously wounded during a fight with some other boys. They were five, much bigger and ruthless than him, but Davos had been so foolish as to think he could win just by being faster than them.

How wrong he had been...

He tried to get up, but he soon fell back down. He'd spent all of his physical strenght fighting, and now was completely exausted. He tried to open his mouth, in order to call for help, but from his lips came out only a stream of blood that went to increase what he already had on his clothes.

Gods, please, let someone pass nearby...

But Davos knew that nobody would come to help him. That was the worst area of Flea Bottom, and charitable souls avoided it like the greyscale. Besides, even if someone happened to pass by, why would they save him? He was nobody. Not a young knight, or the son of a great lord. He was just one of the many brats that could be found anywhere in the poor area of the capital. Nobody cared about his fate.

Nobody...

Muttering one last prayer to the gods, Davos closed his eyes and died.

XXXXXX

EDDARD

Storm's End, 283 AC

Despite his young age, since the beginning of the Rebellion Eddard Stark had seen more than one massacre, lastly the one in the Red Keep of King's Landing. Although the idea unsettled him, he now could consider himself used to it.

However, what he found once inside the ancestral seat of House Baratheon, was something that he'd never have imagined.

"Old Gods...what happened, here?" said the young Lord of Winterfell. After neutralizing the forces of the Reach, he and his men had entered the castle, expecting to be greeted by the men of the garrison, or by Lord Stannis Baratheon himself, one of the new king's brothers. But...

...they'd first been greeted by an unsettling silence, then by a smell they all knew very well. The smell of death, a mixture of blood, shit and sweat.

Then they saw the corpses.

They were scattered here and there in the corridors of the castle. Men at arms, smallfolk, men, women and some children. Some lay sprawled on the ground, others sat with their back against the wall. And although some had undoubtedly been killed with some kind of blade, many more were the bodies that showed bite marks. In some cases whole limbs were missing. Out the corner of his eye, Eddard had seen a dead woman without an arm. And, which was even more disturbing, some seemed to have tried to devour themselves.

They must've run out of supplies, thought the young Stark. Things like this were bound to happen, during a siege. Usually, by then the besieged choose to surrender. This hadn't happened there, though. Furthermore, the Tyrell host on the outside hadn't even noticed what was going on inside the castle. They all thought that Lord Stannis had simply ordered silence.

Ned had never met Robert's brothers in person. However, his friend had talked about them more than once. Particularly, he'd described Stannis as "a man with a septon's sense of humor and as stubborn as a mule". Perhaps, Lord Stannis had wanted to resist until the last moment, but his men had been of a different opinion.

It must have gone like this. Stannis didn't want to surrender, and his men rebelled. And then...

His thoughts were interrupted by a moan from behind his back. He turned and saw Willam Dustin, the lord of Barrowton, with a hand on his mouth.

"Willam..."

The other man shook his head and swallowed. He moved his hand (Eddard noted he was lightly trembling) and took two deep breaths, his eyes wide in horror. "It's nothing, my lord. I was just suppressing a retch." The other men with him looked at him sympathetically. They too seemed to be in his same condition.

Eddard nodded. It was no wonder they were all unsettled by that nightmarish scenario. Even he was having a hard time staying impassive.

"What should we do now, Lord Eddard?" asked Ethan Glover.

The Lord of Winterfell took some time to think. "First, we'll search the castle. There could be survivors hiding somewhere." Eddard hoped with all his heart that Robert's brothers were still alive. Because otherwise, it would mean that his friend had been left alone in the world. And despite what had recently happened between them in the Red Keep, he would never wish him something like this. He knew all too well what it meant to lose a family member. "And if there are, they'll explain us what happened." He paused briefly. "Maybe we'll have to leave some men here to guard the castle. I'll decide later who'll be in charge. And then...then we'll go to Dorne."

The other men nodded solemnly. Of course, that was the part of their mission they cared about the most. Rescuing Lyanna Stark and bringing her back safe and sound to Winterfell.

Eddard Stark turned and started walkind down the corridors of Storm's End, followed closely by his men.

XXXXXX

ROBERT

Pyke, 289 AC

His vision was clouded with exhaustion. Blood dripped from a wound to his right cheek and from another to his left arm. Rain was making the ground slippery, and his opponent did not want to give up.

King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, wasn't having a good day. He hadn't since months.

To be precise, since the seven times damned Balon Greyjoy had had the brilliant idea of crowning himself "King of the Iron Islands", and had attacked the western coast of Westeros. From Lannisport to Seagard, it had been a succession of unimaginable atrocities.

Of course, the royal armies hadn't stayed idle. It had been difficult, but in the end they had pushed the invaders back to the sea. But there had begun the problems. The ironborn had the strongest fleet in the world, and the Redwyne ships had been barely able to keep up with them. Robert still remembered the burning ships near Fair Isle, the result of the epic battle where the two fleets had destroyed each other. They had lost many a good man in that battle, but the iron men casualties had been considerable too. Now they didn't need to worry about Victarion Greyjoy and his Iron Fleet anymore.

Then, once the royal forces had gathered an army worthy of this name on the few ships they had left, they invaded the Iron Islands. And then the real slaughter had begun. Robert had lost count of all the people he'd seen dying. But that hadn't stopped him, not even a little bit. He'd gone on and killed all the ironborn he'd met. Balon Greyjoy, his eldest sons and his brother Aeron now were just a memory. Only Euron was left.

Euron, who was turning out to be thougher than he'd expected. Euron, to whom he'd succeeded in devastating the left side of his face with a blow from his hammer. Euron, who just didn't want to surrender and was pissing him off like only Rhaegar had done.

May I be damned if I can't kill this son of a squid!, thought Robert. Come on you asshole, let's end it here!

Almost as if he'd read his mind, Euron Greyjoy started walking toward him, his fist tight around the hilt of his sword. "What is dead...may never die..." he panted. He got ready to hit him.

Robert clenched his teeth and raised his hammer. "THEN FUCKING DIE!"

It all happened with a shocking speed. One moment, the two opponents were in front of each other, their weapons ready to strike. A moment later, Euron fell on the ground after getting a hammer blow on his chest. A similar blow had taken Rhaegar Targaryen's life, and Euron Greyjoy followed his example. But not before driving his sword into Robert's throath. The king barely had time to realize what had happened, and then he slowly fell on the ground. His hammer fell from his right hand with a metallic thud.

What...that son of a...

But he never completed that thought. And so it was that King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, drew his last breath under the falling rain.

XXXXXX

CATELYN

Winterfell, 291 AC

When Catelyn Tully had been bethrothed to Brandon Stark, she'd never have guessed she'd end up marrying his brother. Even now, after all those years, she clearly remembered their wedding day. She remembered when she'd arrived in front of the septon and had looked for the first time into the eyes of the cold northman that she was soon to marry.

Eddard Stark, also known as Ned. Her Ned. The stranger that, with time and despite everything, she'd come to love. And that now was dead. It had been two years since it happened, during the final assault to the Greyjoys castle. She'd just given birth to Lyarra, when a raven had arrived with the latest news from the war. Dark wings, dark words. Only then she'd understood what those words truly meant.

In had been one of the worst moments of her life, and she'd spent entire days crying. Luckily, she'd managed to come out of it, and now she ruled Winterfell and the North with Benjen, waiting for little Robb to become a man.

Benjen had been invaluable. More than a goodbrother, she could now think of him as a dear friend. He'd even saved her life, some time ago, killing Petyr Baelish when he'd tried to attack her. Her old childhood friend had come to Winterfell to help her after Ned's death, but soon after had showed less noble intentions. She'd been shocked by it, and after her refusal, Petyr had reacted in the worst possible way. Benjen had arrived just before the irreparable happened.

Now stop thinking about the past, thought the Lady of Winterfell. Look out for your children's future, instead. She started drumming her fingers on the table in Ned's solar, and then she began to ponder.

When Ned had made Benjen a lord, he'd done it so that House Stark had more heads to count on. She, instead, would arrange suitable bethrothals for her children.

Robb had shown a certain liking to Wylla Manderly, youngest granddaughter to the Lord of White Harbor, who was more or less of the same age as him. She had visited last month with the rest of her family, and the two children had spent a lot of time together. Catelyn was sure the Manderlys would not oppose a proposal.

Sansa's too would be no problem. Her daughter seemed to be smitten with Domeric Bolton, the young Lord of the Dreadfort (his father Roose too had died during the assault on Pyke). Also, their eventual marriage would join together the two most important houses of the North, finally ending the ancient feud (even though officially Stark bannermen, the Boltons had always had an ambiguous reputation).

As for little Lyarra, who could barely formulate coherent sentences, she could bethroth her to Eddard Mormont, son of Jorah Mormont and Jonelle Cerwyn. Or maybe to Howland Reed's son, whose name she didn't remember. Or else to the heir to Barrowton, Edric Dustin. All of them belonged to noble and ancient houses, and loyal to the Starks. It would be a difficult choice.

Just like deciding what to do about Jon Snow.

She'd never looked favorably at the presence of Ned's bastard. In fact, given the chance, she was sure she would leave him freezing to death in the outside snows. To her, bastards were all the same. All potential Blackfyres, always ready to steal their trueborn halfbrothers birthright.

Yet...Jon had never given any sign of such an intent, though. Sure, it could also be a farse on his part, but Catelyn was beginning to have doubts about it. He'd always been kind to everyone, even to her who'd always treated him as if he was the son of the Stranger, and he just seemed to be looking for a place in the world.

But she couldn't continue to keep him at Winterfell. Also because Jon looked too much like Ned, even more than Robb, Sansa and Lyarra. She felt a pain in her chest every time she looked at him. Once she'd almost burst into tears.

I could send him to be fostered with Benjen, she thought, changing her mind soon after. Her goodbrother was already enough busy, she didn't want to give him another burden. Or...

And then she had an idea, and wondered why she hadn't thought earlier of that.

She would send Jon to Riverrun, as a squire to Edmure who'd recently been knighted. This way the boy would have a chance to make his own fate outside of the North, and he would stay far from Winterfell. Far from her.

Yes, it's the best thing to do, both for me and for Jon, she decided.

She took a scroll, unrolled it and began thinking about what to write.

XXXXXX

JON

Red Keep, 296 AC

The last thirteen years of Jon Arryn's life hadn't been easy. Between deaths, growing responsibilities and old age, the Lord of the Eyrie and First Hand of the King could think of himself as one of the most stressed men in the Seven Kingdoms. But despite this, Jon had never failed his duties.

And what are my duties now?, thought the old Arryn sitting at the table with a man he would have loved to kill.

Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost and First Hand of the new king, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name. Jon still couldn't believe everything that had recently happened, and not just because Connington and Aegon had been deemed dead (apparently, Varys the eunuch was behind everything). Aegon's host had hit the Seven Kingdoms like a storm, taking advantage of the instability that still plagued the realm years after King Robert's death. They had reached the capital after relatively little time, helped by the armies of the Reach (or better, the Tyrell's and some houses sworn to them) and Dorne. After a long and exhausting siege Cersei, now desperate, to not give in to the enemy had poisoned herself and her children. The woman's move had unsettled the old lord. He'd never have guessed that someone could do such a thing. He still remembered clearly the image of the four corpses on the floor of the Red Keep. Cersei, her firstborn Myrcella, young King Durran and little Joanna. A chilling scene. And if it hadn't been for Brienne Tarth, one of the most incredible women Jon Arryn had ever seen, Mya too would be dead. The Maid of Tarth had killed the assassin sent by Cersei, allowing the Baratheon line to continue.

And now, they just had to negotiate the surrender. They were almost done, there was only one thing left to discuss.

"Lord Connington, I think it's futile to remind you of the reasons that sparked the Rebellion..." answered the First Hand in a resentful tone. Jon hadn't forgotten the death of his nephew Elbert by an order of the Mad King. Or Denys' at the Battle of the Bells. House Arryn had suffered truly heavy losses back then.

"I know it very well, Lord Arryn." nodded the other man. "This doesn't justify certain actions, though."

"Then what? You want my head? Hoster Tully's? Or maybe Tywin Lannister's? No wait, you already took his."

"King Aegon does not wish for his reign to begin with a bloodbath. Besides, the people responsible for the death of his mother and sister have already been punished." Connington scratched his beard. "We will later decide what to do with Lord Tully. Although I doubt it's going to be something too drastic, given his illness."

As strange as it looked, the new king had not been vindictive at all. He'd just had some people executed, or sent to the Wall. He'd stripped the Hightowers of the Reach, giving it back to the Tyrells. He'd also been kind enough with the other Great Houses that had joined Robert's Rebellion, as long as they sent some hostages to court and swore loyalty.

"As for you, Lord Arryn, you do not have to die. As I previously said, His Grace does not want an useless bloodshed." He cleared his throat. "Think about it. There is a good alternative, which would satisfy everyone. And in my opinion it's the best option, especially for you."

Jon took some time to think about Connington's words. He'd understood what he meant. And the more he thought about it, the more he saw he was right, as much as he hated to admit it. It was the best option he had. After all, what else could he do? The alternative was loosing his head. This way, instead, he could spend his last days doing something useful for the realm, although in an unfriendly environment. And his sons would do well even without him (they'd gotten over their mother Lysa's death, years before. They were stronger than they looked).

The Lord of the Vale sighed and nodded a little sadly. "All right. The Wall it is, then."

XXXXXX

JAIME

Somewhere beyond the Wall, 298 AC

"...and now their watch is over." said Jaime Lannister solemnly, placing the lit torch on the improvised woodpile where the bodies of Ramsay Snow and Theon Greyjoy rested. Despite the bitter cold, the wood immediately caught fire, and in the blink of an eye the flames wrapped the two corpses.

The Kingslayer stepped back, near the two remaining members of his team. Sandor Clegane and Samwell Tarly were standing near the horses, the first with his arms crossed and a grim face, the latter with his eyes on the ground and the look of someone who wished to be somewhere else.

Jaime didn't blame him for it. Being a member of the Night's Watch was by no means easy, but what had happened to them in the last hour had helped to make the atmosphere worse. So much for a simple and easy ranging! Being attacked by two of their brothers, with such wounds that by all accounts should have killed them, but who were walking nonetheless, with that strange blue light into their eyes...it was something that had managed to scare even him, and he was far from a fresh squire. Sandor wasn't letting it on, but he too must have at least been disturbed by it. Luckily, they had managed to defeat them by cutting off their heads, otherwise Jaime was sure the three of them would have been dead by now.

Meanwhile, Samwell kept on sobbing. Jaime felt pity for the boy. It was clear that he wasn't fit for the Wall, and that he was there not by his own free will. He'd have to be very close to him, doing his best to help him survive in the Watch.

"For fuck's sake, Tarly! Get a hold of yourself!" growled the Hound angrily.

"Peace, Sandor." Jaime put a hand on his sworn brother's shoulder. "It's all right, Sam." All right my ass, thought the former kingsguard. Dead men walking and attacking the living...he was not superstitious, but he couldn't help but see it as a bad omen.

Randyll Tarly's firstborn seemed to calm down. He nodded and coughed. Sandor snorted and went back to staring at the burning pyre.

The three men of the Watch stayed silent for what looked like an eternity, surrounded only by snow, wind and trees. Finally, when the flames died and nothing was left of the corpses aside from a few charred remains, Jaime fixed his black cloak and cleared his throat.

"All right, now let's go back to Castle Black. We must inform the Old Bear and all the others."

The three men mounted their horses and left for the ancient fortress.

THE REALM AT THE END OF THE THIRD CENTURY AC:

THE ROYAL FAMILY

Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (married to his aunt Daenerys Targaryen, currently with child)

Balerion, Elianta and Rhaegal, their dragons (born from eggs gifted by Illyrio Mopatis for the royal wedding. Fossilized at first, the eggs hatched after being put on Prince Viserys' funeral pyre)

THE SMALL COUNCIL

Lord Jon Connington, First Hand of the King

Illyrio Mopatis, Master of Coin

Varys, Master of Whisperers

Lord Monford Velaryon, Master of Ships (and regent of Dragonstone, until the birth of a royal heir)

Lord Mace Tyrell, Master of Laws

Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard

Gran Maester Gormon (elected by the Conclave of Oldtown after Pycelle's execution)

ROYAL WARDS (officially. Unofficially, hostages to keep their families loyal)

Lyarra Stark (Robb Stark's sister, bethrothed to Edric Dustin)

Eddard Arryn (Jon Arryn's secondborn, bethrothed to Mya Baratheon)

Rodrik Lannister (Tyrion Lannister's secondborn and heir to the Iron Islands)

THE NORTH

Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (married to Wylla Manderly, currently with child)

Catelyn Tully, grandmother to be

Sansa Stark, bethrothed to Domeric Bolton

Benjen Stark, Lord of Sea Wolf Fang (former Sea Dragon Point. Married to Dacey Mormont)

Brandon Stark, Benjen's firstborn and heir

Edwyle Stark, secondborn

THE RIVERLANDS

Hoster Tully (because of his declining health, after the War of Reconquest he was only ordered to abdicate in favour of his son Edmure)

Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands (bethrothed to Margaery Tyrell)

Jon Snow, Edmure's squire

THE VALE

Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East (bethrothed to Myranda Royce)

Myranda Royce (bethrothed to Robert Arryn)

Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone and regent until Robert comes of age

THE STORMLANDS

Mya Baratheon, Lady of Storm's End and Lady Paramount of the Stormlands (born Stone, she was legitimized by King Robert soon after the Rebellion, with a decree made public only after the king's death. Bethrothed to Jon Arryn's secondborn, who, according to their fathers deal, will take her name after the wedding)

Brienne Tarth, Lady Mya's sworn shield

THE REACH

Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden (ruling the Reach in Lord Mace's name, since he's busy in King's Landing with his role in the Small Council)

Ser Garlan Tyrell (married to Leonette Fossoway)

Margaery Tyrell, officially a virgin (bethrothed to Edmure Tully)

Ser Loras Tyrell, knight of the Kingsguard

Olenna Redwyne, lovely as always

THE WESTERLANDS

Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West (married to Asha, last heir of House Greyjoy. Match made as part of the deal made between Rodrik Harlaw, Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister soon after the Greyjoy Rebellion)

Balon Lannister, his firstborn and heir to Casterly Rock

THE IRON ISLANDS

Rodrik Harlaw, Lord of Harlaw and regent of the Iron Island until his great-nephew comes of age

DORNE

Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear

Arianne Martell, his firstborn and heir

Quentyn Martell, who has recently expressed his intention to become a Maester

Trystane Martell, currently visiting his mother in Norvos

Ser Bronn of Sunspear, Trystane's sworn sword (former sellsword, after the War of Reconquest he travelled the Seven Kingdoms until he came to Dorne. Having saved Trystane's life, he's been rewarded with the knighthood and some lands. He's recently began an affair with Tyene Sand)

Oberyn Martell, Bronn's friend and drinking buddy

THE WALL

Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall

Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

Jon Arryn, First Steward

Brynden Tully, First Ranger

Sandor Clegane (after the War of Reconquest, Sandor, tired of fighting for the lords, willingly decided to take the black)

Jaime Lannister (after the truth came out about the assassination of Aerys II, he was given the chance to choose between execution and the Wall)

Samwell Tarly (after recently joining the Night's Watch, he became friends with Jaime)


End file.
